


Nightmare Sequence

by JazTheBard



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Platonic but Nonetheless Very Creepy Affection, Prophetic Dreams, this is just pain i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/pseuds/JazTheBard
Summary: A series of dreams and nightmares that everyone sincerely hopes are not prophetic, mostly taking place in the early days of Elrond and Elros's time as hostages.(aka things that were too messed up or too out of character that I really wanted to write)Ch. 1, The Trouble With Two Hostages: Elrond dreams of his or Elros's impending death.Ch. 2, To See Yourself Changed: Elrond sees Elros and himself many years in the future.Ch. 3, Bent and Broken: In the Halls of Mandos, Maedhros hallucinates.Ch. 4, Trophies: Gil-Galad has a disturbing dream about a treasure vault.Ch. 5, Obedience: A messenger sees what has become of the stolen princes.Ch. 6, Mistrust/Overheard: A series of terrible misunderstandings.Ch. 7, Neither Love Nor Duty: The day after adopting Elrond and Elros, Maglor dreams.Ch. 8, Revenge at Last: Maedhros is dead, but there is still some comfort he can provide to those he has hurt.Ch. 9, Trophies Redux: Gil-Galad rescues Elrond and Elros. They do not see it that way.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 163
Kudos: 105





	1. The Trouble with Two Hostages

**Author's Note:**

> the title of my doc for this is "super messed up nightmare sequence" so do with that what you will lol

Elrond dreamed, full of terror. The nightmares came every night, each more terrible than the last, ever since he and Elros had been taken.

(He only hoped that none of the dreams predicted the future like they sometimes did, for even in the ones where both of them lived, they were changed beyond recognition. He had two nights ago woken in a panic because he had seen one of  _ them, _ dressed in red and crowned in stars and holding a sword, and the figure had turned to reveal it was Elros.)

This one was not so far in the future, it seemed, for he was himself in it, the same as he was before he went to sleep, and Elros was with him.

The red-haired one stood before them, arms crossed. He said, “It appears that your parents intend to make us wait, or else they have no intention of coming back for you. Either way, you will be staying with us for longer than anticipated.”

He paused. Elrond knew better than to interrupt.

“I have no intention of putting up with both of you children for an indeterminate length of time; you are far too much trouble, and quite frankly, we do not need both of you.”

Elrond grasped his twin’s hand.  _ Please do not let this dream be one of the true ones, _ he thought.

“You have until someone brings you dinner to decide which of you stays alive,” said the red-haired one. He smiled. “If you both behave, we will consider making it quick and painless, for there is no one to make you an example for, and my brother has a soft heart. Do not try to escape in the meantime, though. There are a myriad of ways to make you regret it that will not kill you.”

He patted Elros condescendingly on the head and left the room, locking the door behind him and leaving them alone once more, just as they had been for most of the past week.

Elrond awoke, as did Elros, at the sound of the real door to their room opening.

(“Room” did not seem like the right word, since they left it only rarely and under strict supervision, but it  _ was _ a bedroom, and not uncomfortable, so “cell” was not accurate either.)

It was the singing one who entered and told them it was time to get up. “My brother is making breakfast,” he said, “and I was hoping we could eat together, if you would not mind.”

As if they had a  _ choice. _ And if they did, it was obeying or not eating, so it hardly counted.

They both nodded silently.

“I will wait in the hall for you.”

They got dressed and followed the singing one to get washed up before he led them to a small kitchen where the red-haired one waited. There were four place settings at the table.

They sat down where they were gestured to do so, and did not eat until  _ they _ had started.

When they were finished eating, the red-haired one cleared his throat. “The two of you have been here for a week now,” he said, “and we have received no communication from your mother. I sent a letter, but there has been no response. I am afraid you will be staying with us for longer than anticipated.”

Elrond’s blood ran cold. Those were the exact words from his dream. He reached for Elros’s hand, his fear mounting.

“So you two certainly cannot stay locked up in your room all the time, not if we do not know how long you will be here, though I doubt it will take more than a month for us to receive a response. And as I have said, you will be returned to your family as soon as your mother gives us the Silmaril.”

Elrond nearly cried with relief to hear such words, pushing away the fear and uncertainty that came with the admission that Mother had not said anything.

(Did she intend to leave them there? If she did, how long until  _ they _ gave up and killed him and Elros?)

The singing one spoke up. “You will be able to spend much more time in the library or outside, and you may play with the human children if you wish. You will still be under guard, of course; even if we did not have such a vested interest in your remaining here, you are safest within the fortress, so running away would be unwise.”

That sounded wonderful up until the veiled threat at the end, but it was good enough.

Maybe, just maybe, they could both live through this.


	2. To See Yourself Changed

It was one of those dreams that was obviously a dream, one that was too vivid and perfect to be real, one where the light hit  _ just so _ and you could almost hear music in the background.

Elrond watched someone whose face he could not see fight a dragon.

The person had dark hair, cut to their shoulders, and they were tall, though Elrond was only six, so everyone seemed tall to him. They wielded a sword with grace and skill. But the most distinctive thing, and the most terrible, was their cloak, bright red and emblazoned with the awful sigil he could not seem to escape.

The person vanquished the dragon, and a cheer came from all around. Elrond clapped, too, despite himself.

But then, in that way dreams have of bringing you places, he came to just behind that figure ablaze with light, not just from the dying dragonfire but from within, and they turned to look at him, dressed all in red with a starry circlet upon their brow, the sword and armor gone.

It was Elros.

Elros, grown, and wearing  _ their _ sign and  _ their _ colors, resplendent in his jewelry and vibrant red robes, and not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable about any of it.

He looked down at Elrond, proud and high and bright.

Elrond panicked and woke himself up.

He poked Elros. “Wake up,” he whispered. “I had a nightmare.”

Elros slapped his hand away sleepily. “I’m up, I’m up. What happened?”

“A dream, like I said. You were in it. You were older, and you were wearing red like  _ they _ do and all their signs. And a crown-ish thing.”

“I would never do that. Not unless they made me,” said Elros. “I don’t belong to them and I won’t wear their sigil. And even if they did make me, I wouldn’t be wearing a crown.”

“You’re sure it’s fake?”

“I’m sure.”

Elrond sighed in relief and returned to a fitful sleep.

Three nights later, there was another dream that felt the same.

He walked into the great hall of the fortress (he had never seen it, but he knew exactly what it was) and saw it full of people. But at the high table sat only one person, in a great chair that was practically a throne. A very familiar person.

Elrond looked up towards Elrond, and the rest of the people disappeared, along with all the tables, until he stood before the throne, before  _ himself _ all bedecked in red finery and covered in that terrible sigil from head to toe.

“What happened to you? To me?” cried Elrond, unable to bear the sight of himself.

Elrond smiled. “Nothing happened.”

“You wouldn’t be dressed like that if nothing has happened! That doesn’t make any sense! Did they make me wear that?” It was the only explanation.

“They do not make me do things. I chose."

Elrond's world shattered. No, he would not, he would not--

His counterpart continued, "Life is better now, I promise, you just have to get through when you are.”

Elrond wanted to cry in anger. “No! Doing what  _ they _ say isn’t choosing and I would never, ever choose this.” He wiped his eyes furiously. “Just because they’re nice to you because you gave in doesn’t mean they care, and  _ I _ will not give in.”

"It is not giving in. Things change. When you are when I am, you will see. We are happy, Elros and I, and no longer afraid." His voice was calm, in stark contrast to that of his younger self.

Elrond looked into Elrond's eyes and saw a fell, familiar light shining in them. "That’s a lie. They turned me into this, into you.”

Elrond said, patient and soft, “I chose this.  _ You _ chose this, freely. When it is time to make this decision, it will be easy. You will  _ want  _ to choose as I did, and Elros will, too.”

“I cannot be  _ happy _ that they will... what? Hurt us so much that anything would be better? Change us into something more obedient, something that would want this? I don’t want to be you!”

The hall echoed for a moment with the aftermath of Elrond’s scream.

Elrond stood and walked down to Elrond, placing his hands gently on his shoulders in comfort. “You will understand in time, I promise. Things will get better, and one day you shall sit there at the highest table and know you belong.” He took off his circlet and placed it upon Elrond’s head, smiling. "There! You are perfect. You were not meant to live all your life in fear, you know, and you will not have to."

"I will do anything to keep this from happening," said Elrond, abandoning the effort not to cry. "This is not going to be real, I won't let it."

He squeezed his eyes shut and woke himself up.

Elros was already there hugging him as he began to weep. "It was another dream," he said between sobs, "but it was me this time wearing the star. I don't think we're going to have a choice."


	3. Bent and Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an elaboration on the hallucinations that mae suffers in my fic I Beg a Deep and Dreamless Sleep
> 
> So he's hallucinating and misremembering a lot of stuff
> 
> Content warning for bad mental states and brainwashing

How many times would he have to see this? How many times would he hallucinate this same scene before it was enough?

(It would never be enough. Even if it continued to the breaking of the world, it would never be sufficient punishment for what he had done.)

Lifelike hallucinations of Elrond and Elros knelt before his cell as he wept.

“Please stop this,” he said. “I cannot bear it. Let your anger burn me, but do not mock me with your silence!”

Elros kept his dull and lifeless eyes respectfully lowered. “I am not angry with you, Father, and I intend no mockery. I ask only if there is anything you wish me to do.”

“You are dead, and so am I. There is no point in acting like this. I can no longer hurt you, imprisoned as I am.”

“Would you like us to plead for your release?” said Elrond. “Such things have been done.”  _ By Lúthien our ancestress, _ he did not say, because he did not talk about his birth family.

“Please do not.” If they owed him anything, it was a great deal of pain, not release from well-deserved punishment, and they were not real in any case (he hoped).

“Have we displeased you, Father?” Elrond said, otherwise emotionless eyes shining with tears. Maedhros could almost believe they were from love instead of fear.

They had become very good actors very quickly, after all.

“No, but I do wish for you to cease calling me so. I am not and never was your father, and you need not appease me any longer. We are far past such things.”

Elros still would not look directly at him, knowing better after years of conditioning, but said, “Is this not what you wanted from us? We have only done as you told us, only been as you ordered. If you wish us to be otherwise, you need only say the word.”

Maedhros could not speak. It would be so easy to  _ order _ them to stop, but the thought of using that power he had won with cruelty and force made him pause. He could not do that in good conscience, if the idea of a good conscience could even exist with regard to him.

(And what would they do if they were not his sons? They knew no other way to be; there was no  _ self _ for them to go back to when the lie was gone, he had made sure of that.)

It did not matter, as it turned out, that he spoke not.

"We are only as you have made us," Elrond said in echo of his twin. "Do you remember?"

And suddenly, he did.

* * *

Elros and Elrond were young, only children even by human standards, but they were still and silent as no one of their age should be as they entered Maedhros’s study, Maglor’s hands on their shoulders to guide them. At a slight downward pressure, they obediently sank to their knees. Maglor went to stand at Maedhros’s right.

“I have decided what is to be done with you,” said Maedhros.

To their credit, the children’s expressions did not change. Not that they often did anymore; only blankness and occasional deep terror ever showed on their faces these days.

He continued, “Since no one seems to be coming to retrieve you, it falls to Maglor and myself to raise you. From now on, you will be our sons, and we will take care of you.”

“You will, of course, be required to act as such,” said Maglor, “and reciprocate our affection for you, but I do think you know better by now than to disobey.”

Silent nods were his only response. Elrond clearly wished to ask why they were doing this, but he said nothing, all too familiar with the consequences for questions.

"We will define acceptable behavior for you over the coming days; I am sure you shall learn quickly. Do you understand?" said Maedhros.

"Yes," said Elros quietly.

"'Yes,' what?"

"Yes, Father. We understand."

* * *

The children smiled more these days, even if it never reached their eyes.

Maedhros -- the one in the memory, not the one who remembered -- smiled back and marveled that he had never come up with this idea until now. It was perfect. He had always wanted children, as had Maglor, and now two little ones had serendipitously come into their care.

He would never treat his  _ own _ children like this, but Elros and Elrond needed to be taught. Soon enough they would convince even themselves that they loved him, and it would no longer be necessary to remind them, for they would (for all intents and purposes)  _ be _ his own children. And Maglor's, of course.

(It was a pity that they were half-elven, and therefore unlikely to be immortal. Only death stood a chance of taking them away, but he did not like the idea of losing them.)

But up until recently, they simply had not been sufficiently broken to his will to make this work. If he had ordered them to love him even a year ago, they would have resisted. Now, though, when they obeyed without thinking and they had been starved of affection for years, they would do anything he asked even without the promise of love as a reward. With it, they did so with enthusiasm.

The hugs were the best part. Maedhros made sure to give them regular affectionate touch, especially when they behaved as he wished. It reinforced good behavior, for one thing, and made them more attached, for only he and Maglor were allowed to show them such affection, and they had been deprived of it entirely for a long time.

And, fully apart from their usefulness in enforcing physical and emotional closeness, the hugs were just nice. Maedhros loved to cuddle Elrond and Elros, as did Maglor; the children were so tiny and soft and fit perfectly in their arms. They did hold great affection for the twins, even if it was not entirely welcome on the children's part. Well, not yet.

Maedhros might not be a craftsman in the way the rest of his family was, but Elrond and Elros would be a masterpiece. Was this not sculpting, though, of a sort? Of the mind and the soul rather than of clay.

(His mother had named him well-made, and she was a sculptor of stone and creator of children. His children, too, would be lovingly crafted.)

The twins would be perfect when he had finished his work. The fact that it would hurt their birth parents was only an added bonus, really; the real joy came from the children's love and his pride in his craft.

* * *

In the present, Maedhros wept still. Perhaps he should have simply killed the children all those years ago; it would have been kinder than this mockery he had made of them.

They kept their eyes downcast. Even these hallucinations of them were afraid to break the rules he had set.

"Go," he said, when he found his voice again. "Go and find Lady Nienna, who walks these Halls, and find healing with her. If you wish to return afterwards, I cannot stop you."

He would not reach out a hand to give comfort. It was not his place, as the one who had caused the pain, and he would not allow them to become attached again, though it broke his heart to do nothing.

"As you wish. Farewell for now, Father," said Elros.

Elrond nodded. "We shall return as soon as we are done. I love you."

Maedhros said nothing, only shut his eyes and prayed that this had been false.


	4. Trophies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS
> 
> Ok this chapter is gonna be really creepy and i don't want you to read it if it might upset you
> 
> WARNINGS  
> \- brainwashing  
> \- messed up worldviews  
> \- really creepy platonic affection  
> \- the basic premise being "e&e live in a treasure vault" and the implications of that  
> \- light dehumanization
> 
> In universe this is all made up by gil-galad's subconscious but please heed the warnings!!

Gil-Galad knew he had no history of foresight, but his nightmares came frequent and horrible, and he regarded them warily in case one proved true.

(Especially since the children had been taken. It had been nearly two weeks since, and no word had come from the Sons of Fëanor.)

He knew somehow that this dream took place in the future, around ten years away. This already boded ill, but his anxiety increased when he noticed that he stood before what had to be the fortress on Amon Ereb.

A messenger carrying his banner went up to the gate, and Gil-Galad followed, invisible to the players in the dream.

The messenger was led to the great hall, where Maedhros and Maglor awaited her at the head of the room. She bowed.

“Lord Maedhros, Lord Maglor, I bring word from his majesty, High King Gil-Galad.”

Maedhros gestured for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. “As always, before I am permitted to speak further, I must have proof that Prince Elros and Prince Elrond yet live.”

Maglor inclined his head. "Of course. Follow me." He stood and led the messenger out of the room, saying, "I would have thought that by now you people would know we have no intention of killing them. There would be no point in that."

Gil-Galad felt his stomach twist. Knowing that they were alive was a good thing, but Maglor's words worried him.

They came to an imposing, heavy-looking door with two guards outside it. Maglor waved a hand and they stepped aside as he opened it with a key.

Was this where Elrond and Elros were kept? It did not seem fit for children, and it could not be healthy for them to have such little freedom as it implied.

Beyond that door was another one, and four guards this time. Gil-Galad was, at this point, terrified.

After that door, they entered a room full of... clutter was not the word, exactly; it was too shiny for that. All the wealth of the fortress appeared to reside here, save that which was being worn or carried.

And among it, the greatest treasures of all: Elrond and Elros, covered in what looked like half the jewelry in the room, quietly reading in a corner.

They looked up at the sound of the door opening, and quickly stood when Maglor's singsong of "Hello, my precious ones!" floated out to them. They rushed over, hurriedly pulling at their robes and complex hairstyles to ensure that they were presentable.

"Please introduce yourselves," said Maglor.

With practiced ease, the twins bowed in unison.

"A pleasure to meet you," said one. "I am Elrond, and this is my brother Elros. Thank you for taking the time to come and see us."

The messenger bowed to them in return, which made the twins look mildly uncomfortable. "Likewise. Thank you for receiving me."

An awkward silence fell for a moment. It was broken by Maglor, who said, "You wish to ask them a question, I believe? The previous messengers all did. Do not let me stop you."

Addressing the twins, the messenger said, "His majesty the High King asks once more if you would consider joining his court on Balar. He would be delighted to have you."

"We are honored, of course, by his majesty's request," said Elros smoothly, as if he had given this answer before, "but it is not our decision to make, and we are perfectly comfortable here."

The messenger nodded, looking resigned, as if she had expected this. "And you both are well?"

"Yes."

The messenger's eyes caught on a glint of metal at Elrond's wrist. He pulled at his sleeve to cover it. Gil-Galad, who could stare without being noticed, saw that it was a finely wrought golden bracelet, fashioned to look uncomfortably like a shackle.

Maglor smiled. "Thank you, my treasures. Don't forget, you must attend dinner in the great hall tonight. Maedhros and I will fetch you at six."

Now that he was looking, Gil-Galad saw that the boys each had those bracelets, which were decorated with the Fëanorian star, on both wrists, and all their clothes and jewelry bore the same sigil. The message could not be more clear if Maglor had written  _ This Is Mine _ across their foreheads.

Maglor tucked a stray lock of hair behind Elrond’s ear, smiling all the while, before leaving and gesturing for the messenger to come with him. Gil-Galad went behind the messenger, wanting to know what Maglor would say next.

(It did not escape his notice that Elrond had been very careful not to flinch.)

As soon as both sets of doors were closed behind them, the messenger hissed, “I had heard the accounts of those who had visited before, but it did little to prepare me for this! It makes me  _ sick, _ the way you treat those children!”

Maglor raised an eyebrow. “They are perfectly fine. We would not damage them, they are far too valuable, and they are as safe as can be.”

"You keep them locked up like  _ trophies-- _ "

"True enough," he interrupted, "but that is what they are. They understand it perfectly, I wonder that you cannot. They are safe away from any danger of the outside world, and so they shall remain. Our greatest treasures."

The messenger clenched her fists, but said nothing.

"Now you may continue delivering your message to Maedhros, and we can discuss. I do hope you will be joining us for dinner."

Gil-Galad decided that he ought to go check on the twins. Hopefully he would be able to get in, given that this was a dream and he had not yet been subject to such everyday rules as visibility.

To his relief, he managed to walk right through the doors without any trouble, and came back into the vault, where he heard a voice.

"--And every time they ask us if we want to go! As if we have anything resembling a choice!" Elrond cried, pacing back and forth as he took out the countless ornaments from his hair.

Elros, sitting on the floor and doing the same, nodded. "And we wouldn't even if it were up to us."

"Exactly!"

"The vault here is nice enough, and we're the only ones in it. We can't guarantee that anyone else's would be this comfortable or have this much space, or that someone else would let us have the same freedom we're given," said Elros. "You know, going outside sometimes just because we want to, even when we're not needed for something. Or choosing what we wear."

Gil-Galad wished he could be surprised. Apparently Maedhros and Maglor had managed to turn the children into their own jailers, who assumed any other people would be just the same as their captors, if not worse. It never occurred to them that they might not have to live in a vault, that they might not always be locked away unless they were meant to do something.

"Speaking of, are we supposed to wear anything in particular for dinner? I'd like to have that picked out before you do my hair," said Elrond.

"Red."

Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Don't be like that. We always wear red for the High King's messengers. Anything else would suggest... it would give the messengers ideas. We nearly always wear green or gray when the dwarves visit, and for anyone else it's the usual red or sometimes blue. I know you've noticed."

"We haven't had a lot of visitors lately, in my defense."

This time Elros rolled his eyes. They both went back to taking off jewelry as Gil-Galad pondered this.

Red was -- well, that was obvious enough, as the Fëanorian color it asserted that the children were completely under their captors' control.  _ Appropriate for any situation, _ he thought to himself, though the humor did not help.

Meanwhile, green and gray were associated very much with Thingol, especially when combined. And they did look rather like Lúthien. It probably pleased some dwarves to see the heirs of Thingol laid low.

Blue, though… Gil-Galad could not think of anyone objectionable who wore blue specifically, was particularly associated with blue, save of course Maglor. Normally blue was the color of--

Oh.

Fingolfin.

After all, the feud hadn't  _ really _ ended at the Mereth Aderthad, no matter what people said, and Maedhros had given up the crown only under imminent threat of war. He had some reason to be bitter, though it hardly excused his taking it out on children.

He snapped back to focus when the twins started talking again, having removed most of the ornaments they wore (the handcuff bracelets, of course, stayed on).

Elros had gone over to a wardrobe and opened it, revealing a number of pieces of clothing in various colors, all covered in the eight-pointed star. "Do you think we'll have chairs?"

"It's dinner, so probably," said Elrond, sorting and putting away the jewelry. "And normally if we're not allowed to eat, they tell us. I think we'll be at a table."

"Okay. It's a good thing the messenger got here so much earlier than expected, or we'd have had to do an audience, and it's getting late in the year. Too cold to be kneeling for that long."

(The children were made to sit docile at the foot of a throne while their fates were discussed? Dear Eru, he did not want to hear more; it would only get worse.)

“Usually we don’t do that in front of messengers from the High King, though. They get upset.” Elrond closed the lid of the jewelry box and went over to the wardrobe. “This one, I think,” he said, pointing. “We can match. I don’t want anyone to think we can be separated.”

“Good idea.” Elros took out the indicated sets of robes and laid them over a chair. He paused. “I wish the High King would stop sending people,” he admitted in a whisper.

“Me too. It makes it too easy for them to give us away if they want to, and -- I mean, you heard what they said. One of their messengers to him never came back.”

“And if he treats someone else’s people like that, how does he treat what’s his?” finished Elros. “He’s the king, nobody would stop him if he wanted to hurt us.”

Gil-Galad wanted to say something, aghast with horror, though he could not be heard in the dream. It was  _ him _ they feared! How clever, that they would never allow themselves to be rescued, and all thanks to their jailers' lies.

Elrond groaned. "Sometimes I wish we didn't have to worry about these things. Why does the High King care so much about getting us? He probably has lots of treasures."

"We were his cousins. Before, I mean. They were talking about it in front of me when you were sick," said Elros. "They said we can't be a threat to his throne if we're his. We can't anyway, now, but it'd be really clear to his court if we were actually there." He made a face. "We'd probably have to do audiences all the time."

Elrond nodded. "I hope the messenger leaves soon so we can be allowed outside again, even if we can't play with the human children." He gave a wistful smile. "I wish--"

Elros cut him off. "We're for looking nice and showing off to guests, so we can't do things that might get us dirty. You know that."

"I know. I'm just worried, I suppose, because it's the High King's messenger, and they aren't always pleasant. I mean, there was one who kicked up a fuss because... what was it? They said he'd taken offense because having treasures sit at their feet is only for royalty. Even though they are," said Elrond.

Elros wrung his hands. "I'm worried, too. I might have messed up earlier. Maybe I should wear kneepads just in case."

"But you -- oh, you're right. He didn't touch you like he usually does when we're doing good. Well, I'll try to sneak you some food," said Elrond firmly.

Was that what the gesture of lightly tucking Elrond's hair away had meant? A signal of safety from punishment?

They started brushing out each other's hair.

After some time had passed, Gil-Galad noticed that Elros was crying softly.

"What if," the child whispered, "what if it's not enough to apologize for messing up? I haven't done that in so long. What if they hurt me, or separate us?"

"It usually works if you  _ volunteer _ to kneel at dinner, right? I did that the last time I disobeyed, and they forgave me."

"But I don't want to do that. I don't like being a trophy, even if it's what we are now. I want us to be people again, not just trinkets."

Silence fell. Elrond's eyes were wide with horror.

Then, as if summoned, Maedhros and Maglor came in through the great doors, causing the twins to scramble to kneel on the floor.

"Hello, my precious ones," said Maedhros. "I am sorry I could not visit you earlier."

"We are honored by your presence," said Elros, as if he had not just professed what amounted to treasonous opinions. "What is your will?"

"We just want to spend some time with our favorite treasures," said Maglor. "Here, Elrond, let me brush your hair. I like the clothes you picked out for dinner,by the way."

"You aren't wearing your necklaces. I'll go get them for you," said Maedhros, patting Elrond on the shoulder as he went by.

From the look on Elros's face, this confirmed his captors' displeasure, but he said nothing, only waited.

Maedhros returned with the necklaces. Like the shackle bracelets, they were beautiful and covered in the eight-pointed star, but called to mind collars more than necklaces. He carefully fastened them around the twins' necks as Maglor quietly hummed.

The song was soft and pretty, and it seemed to have an effect on the children, for Elrond relaxed into the affection he was given and Elros began to weep. After a few moments, he burst out and said, "I'm sorry that I made a mistake earlier! It was not my intention, please let me fix it!"

A self-satisfied smile spread across Maedhros's face. "Thank you for your apology, treasure. You can sit at the base of my throne at dinner to show that you are sorry, and then we will forgive you."

"Can I -- please --"

"Come here, precious."

Elros sobbed now with relief and rushed to kneel at Maedhros's feet, where the elf ruffled his hair and said, "Thank you for apologizing without being asked. But you know I will never be so angry with you as to ban you from your proper place."

"Thank you," Elros whispered, choked up but smiling at the touch.

Gil-Galad awoke, feeling sick.

If that turned out to be real -- he hoped not, but it might -- even without Maglor's songs keeping them complacent, would Elros and Elrond know at all how to exist out of captivity?


	5. Obedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which m&m are loving parents who inexplicably start acting like james bond villains the minute someone else enters the room
> 
> You know how you have the supervillain dramatically turning around their chair to reveal that they're petting their evil cat? Yeah it's that
> 
> This one's not a dream it's just more outsider pov, i know i write this stuff a lot lol but y'all didn't complain when i wrote 274398 fics with the same plot in the Reunions series so
> 
> Warning again for platonic but creepy seeming affection

Radoron hated it here.

Being in the Fëanorian stronghold was bad enough, but he had been given the responsibility of trying to convince them to hand over their hostages now that the Evening Star had risen and they could no longer be exchanged for the Silmaril. King Gil-Galad had seemed very worried when he had requested that they open communication with the Sons of Fëanor, though he would not say what it was exactly that distressed him so.

The king had said that this might not work, but that Radoron had to try to get the children back safely. At the very least, he had to verify that Prince Elrond and Prince Elros were alive and try to ensure they remained so.

He had been welcomed by the seneschal of Amon Ereb and told that Lord Maedhros would speak to him at four-thirty. It was now about a quarter past four, and he wandered the hallways in search of any clue towards the princes’ location.

So engrossed in the search was Radoron that he turned a corner and failed to notice the people in the connecting hallway.

He collided with two small figures.

He looked at them in surprise.

Two small figures with  _ pointed ears. _

It had to be them! And they were alive! He opened his mouth to speak, but the children ran away from him.

He followed, not knowing what else to do.

“Please wait,” he said as he ran, “I just want to talk to you!”

They disappeared around the next corner, and when he turned after them, he came face-to-face with a single door.

He opened it, and walked into a large study with no sign of the children. It had, however, two large chairs (the type that could rotate somewhat), one of them turned away from the door.

When the door shut behind him, the chair turned to reveal Maglor Fëanorion, gently stroking the hair of both the children sitting on his lap.

The children, for their part, did not respond or move, only stare at Radoron with wide, curious eyes.

"You are early," Maglor remarked, not pausing for a moment in his ministrations.

Radoron tried to think of an excuse. "Yes, I... I am unfamiliar with Amon Ereb, so I came early assuming that I would get lost along the way, which it turns out I did not."

"Hmm. Then I suppose we can start early, once Maedhros arrives." Maglor addressed one of the boys he held. "Would you go fetch him, darling?"

The child nodded. Maglor pressed a kiss to his cheek and allowed him to climb down and leave.

That was a bit strange, in Radoron's opinion. For a small child to do what anyone said, first of all, let alone obey someone they must hate.

The child still on Maglor's lap now received his full attention, hugged close by one arm while the other hand continued to play with his hair.

Maglor noticed that the child was still unresponsive. "Elrond, darling, is something wrong?" he asked in a falsely caring tone.

The boy -- Elrond -- looked at Maglor and shook his head. He began to lean into the touch, making Maglor smile.

Radoron felt a bit uncomfortable now. Clearly Prince Elrond did not like the way his kidnapper was hugging him, but had to endure it and pretend to enjoy the contact for his own safety. It was disconcerting to see the kinslayer acting so affectionate, but he couldn't exactly make him stop.

The door opened to admit Maedhros and the other boy, who was presumably Prince Elros. Maedhros settled himself into the other chair and lifted Prince Elros onto his lap, where he, like Maglor, cuddled the unresisting child and stroked his hair.

It was  _ possessive. _

"Welcome to Amon Ereb, Radoron," said Maedhros. "Tell me, what message do you bring from Gil-Galad? No word have we had for four years."

Radoron took a deep breath. "His majesty wishes to again open communications, given that there are so few people left in Beleriand who oppose Morgoth, and discord between enemies of the Shadow weakens us all."

"True enough," said Maglor, "but I do not think that that is the only reason you came."

"It is not. High King Gil-Galad asks that, since the ransom you desire is out of all reach, you release your hostages."

The young princes tensed.

Radoron knew they would refuse. He had known all along, in truth, but seeing the Sons of Fëanor so -- he did not know a word for their behavior, but so  _ something _ \-- had only confirmed it.

And, sure enough, "I am afraid that is off the table. We will not be giving them into the care of any but their parents," said Maedhros, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Maglor smiled. "It would be irresponsible, really; I doubt the High King knows how to care for children. The answer is no."

The little princes were still looking at Radoron, no longer tense, as if all the fight had gone out of them. It broke his heart to know he could not save the children, only hope to convince the kinslayers to keep them alive.

"Then you have no objection to envoys from his majesty's court coming here at times to ensure their well-being? If that is truly your only concern, of course." He held his breath. It wasn't much of a threat, unfortunately, as nothing could  _ really _ be done even if the Fëanorians decided to kill the children, but it was something.

For a heart-stopping moment, Radoron thought Maedhros might refuse.

"I have no objection to that, as long as the children's schooling is not interrupted. They are young and have much learning to do," said Maedhros.

Radoron knew that was probably a euphemistic way of saying "we are going to continue to hurt them until they do as we say," but he could mount no objection to it given the way it was phrased.

He said, "Understandable. I think that may be arranged."

At least the princes were alive. It was better than nothing.

"You know," said Maglor, "up until rather recently, we might have considered Gil-Galad's demand, but things have changed. Perhaps if you had only come earlier."

Maedhros nodded in agreement. "They have become very dear to us. You must forgive us for wishing to spend time with them and keep them safe."

Lies, or so he hoped. Lies to taunt him with (if they had been faster, more decisive--).

No, they would never have given the princes back. It was just to make the High King blame himself.

He nearly missed Maglor speaking again, this time to Prince Elrond. "You don't want to leave, do you, sweetheart?"

Prince Elrond shook his head. "No," he said quietly, "I want to stay."

Maglor beamed and gave him a kiss on the temple. "There, you see? They will be staying, and that's the end of that."

"You may go inform the High King when you are rested enough to go," said Maedhros. It was clearly a dismissal.

Radoron bowed. "I will do so."

"Good."

The Sons of Fëanor continued their unnervingly possessive affection towards the twins all the while as Radoron reluctantly made for the door, defeated.

He felt the princes' pleading eyes on him as he left.

* * *

Elros and Elrond snuggled up to their fathers, comfortable and warm.

"Are you two okay?" said Maedhros, worried, as he combed his fingers through Elros's hair. "I thought you would want to talk to him; it's not often we get visitors."

"He was saying mean things about you in his head," said Elrond.

Maedhros sighed. "Mind reading is--"

"He was thinking  _ really loud. _ I couldn't help hearing."

Maglor wrapped his arms around Elrond and held him close. "Thank you both for being patient. I know you don't like meetings."

"Does that mean it's cuddle time now?" said Elros excitedly.

Maedhros grinned. "Well, we're already cuddling you, so I suppose so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas or requests for future chapters of this, feel free to bring it up! I can't promise I'll write it but I'd still love to hear your ideas :)


	6. Mistrust / Overheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! Yes i WILL update jailbird soon i promise I'm just having trouble with it rn
> 
> Anyway thanks to admirablemonster for this idea :)

Maedhros awoke with a start and hurried to dress himself. He had to get to the children first, before Maglor did, just in case. When he reached their room (still locked, he was there in time), he heard muffled crying from inside.

He gently knocked and opened the door. The crying stopped.

"Good morning," he said softly, stepping just inside the door. "I'm going to make you some breakfast soon, if you'd like to get ready for the day."

The children sniffled and nodded.

"It's going to be cold out today, I think, so dress warm. I'll wait in the hall for you." He stepped back out, nearly running into Maglor as he did so.

"You're up early," said Maglor. It sounded almost accusatory.

"I had a bad feeling, so I wanted to make sure the boys are safe, that's all." Maedhros did not mention that the bad feeling had in fact been a nightmare of Maglor injuring the children.

"I see."

They waited in silence until the children opened the door, eyes still red from crying. Maglor gave Maedhros a glare as if he had gone in there to make them cry on purpose.

"Come on," said Maglor, "let's get you something to eat. You must be hungry."

Elrond and Elros followed them both to the little kitchen where they usually ate, and Maedhros made scrambled eggs and toast, which the boys had seemed to like the last time he had made some.

The pattern held, thank goodness, and they ate the food with very little hesitation.

After they had all eaten, he said, "I think the two of you should start attending lessons with the human children. I wouldn't want your learning to be too interrupted."

This was true (he did not want their lives to be put on hold because of this temporary situation), but it also served the purpose of keeping them safe. If he told his people to look after them, Maglor would have few opportunities to cause harm, and would be stopped if he tried.

The children nodded.

"Then let me just wash the dishes and I'll take you to the schoolroom."

He led them there, though it was not yet time for lessons to start, to introduce them to their teachers. This would keep them safely away from Maglor for a good portion of the day, and he could rest easier.

Erestor was the one teaching the younger children today, as it turned out.

Maglor greeted him and said, "These two need to continue their schooling while they're with us. Could you and everyone look after them?"

"I will come pick them up after," said Maedhros before Maglor could say anything else, "so they can pick out some books from the library before dinner."

Erestor nodded and bent down to speak to Elrond and Elros. "Hello, little ones. My name is Erestor, and I'm going to be one of your teachers. Do you want to come in and find yourselves a seat?"

They went in and sat down next to each other, holding hands.

Maglor looked like he wanted to stay, but Maedhros dragged him off with a reminder that he had work to do.

The children were safe for the time being. As long as he got there before Maglor to pick them up, and continued to always get to them first, he could keep them both unharmed.

(He hadn't been able to save Eluréd and Elurín, but he could do this.)

* * *

Maglor, of course, arrived less than a minute after Maedhros did and accompanied him and the children to the library.

In fact, over the next few weeks, Maglor did not allow Maedhros more than a few minutes alone with the twins, and even managed to spend time with them by himself more than once, causing Maedhros several moments of blank panic.

He also watched like a hawk whenever Maedhros cooked, as if looking for an opening, but Maedhros was careful. The children would not be starved or poisoned on his watch.

Maedhros, for his part, stayed every night while Maglor sang them to sleep, and barely slept himself in case Maglor went back.

As far as he knew, nothing had happened, at least not yet. But every night the dreams came.

(Maglor locking the children up permanently, in their room or chained in the cellars.

Elrond and Elros, injured and alone.

Abandonment in the woods as soon as Maedhros turned his back.

Dire threats delivered by a beautiful voice.

And anyway they only needed  _ one-- _ )

Today he went to fetch the children so he could keep an eye on them while he made dinner, but he was running late. When he arrived at the schoolroom, he was told that Maglor had taken them to the music room.

The music room was soundproofed.

(No one would hear them if they cried out.)

Maedhros ran.

Images filled his mind of fear, of their little faces twisted up in pain, of blood on the stone floor, of the boys sung peacefully to sleep and then--

He threw the door open.

The children were indeed asleep, but did not appear to be injured yet. He had made it in time.

Maedhros marched over and plucked Elros from a surprised Maglor's arms, and moved to stand in front of Elrond, who was sleeping in a nearby chair.

Maglor looked terrified now that his schemes had come to light.

"Don't hurt them," he whispered.

Maedhros scoffed, but remained quiet so as not to wake Elrond and Elros. "Why? So you can do it yourself? You are the one who brought them here--"

"They haven't been sleeping well, they needed a nap--"

"So you took them to a remote and soundproofed room alone?"

"Yes! I didn't want them disturbed, so don't try to make me sound suspicious; I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You were going to." Maedhros glared at Maglor.

Maglor looked away and bit his lip. It was as good as a confession.

"Right," said Maedhros, cold with fury. "I will be taking the children now, and you will never see them again. Try  _ anything _ and I will cast you out."

Tears came to Maglor's eyes, but Maedhros reminded himself to stay strong. He might be the only protector the children still had, and he would not endanger them just because his would-be child killer brother didn't want to be alone.

"Please," Maglor whispered, clearly trying to keep from crying, "do not. I will -- I will do anything, but do not hurt them. I will take care of them, and ensure they cause no trouble, and keep them out of your way." He swallowed. "And if nothing will satisfy you but their deaths, let me do it."

Maedhros blinked. "What are you talking about? You've been wanting to hurt them for weeks, why do you think I've never left you alone with them? I will never allow them to come to harm, not from you and not from anyone else."

"You are not fooling anyone. I dare not leave you alone for an instant for fear that you will do something terrible to these poor children. I admit that I was considering helping them to escape, if the Oath would allow it, but I have done nothing yet aside from keep an eye on you," said Maglor. "Throw all three of us to the wilderness if you wish to, but I will not stand by if they are hurt, nor fail to take revenge on their behalf."

Maedhros blinked tears from his eyes and awkwardly embraced Maglor, still holding Elros close. "I am sorry," he whispered when his heart was no longer in his throat. "I thought -- I dreamed -- I was convinced you meant them harm. Forgive me."

"I forgive you," said Maglor, hugging him back. "I dreamed some awful things. It made me scared for the children."

"Speaking of, I think we ought to put them somewhere more comfortable for the rest of their nap."

"Good idea."

* * *

Maedhros and Maglor were holed up in Maedhros's room after having put the children to bed. Maedhros sat curled up into himself.

"I have the dreams still," he said.

"So do I. They seem to take place in the future, and while they cannot be  _ true _ \-- it is distressing."

There was silence for a time, but Maedhros hesitantly broke it. "What did you see, in the dreams?"

Maglor's mouth went tight. "That you will kill the children, and I will help you. They will be tortured first -- locked away and starved and injured cruelly. I think I will spare you the details. And then, well. About what you would expect."

"One drowned and the other set afire," said Maedhros, who had seen the same thing in his dreams.

"Yes."

A tiny noise came from just outside the door.

Maglor looked at Maedhros.

Maedhros looked at Maglor.

As one, they ran for the door and yanked it open, only to see Elros running down the hall away from them.

* * *

Elros ran and ran.

He had to get to Elrond and get them out of here (where would they even go?), anywhere at all was safer than the fortress after what he had heard.

Elrond had said not to get out of bed and spy on them and Elros was glad he hadn't listened. They had been--

They had been planning his and Elrond's torture, and their execution, too. It didn't make sense! Those things wouldn't help them get Mother's necklace with the shiny rock on it, would they? And she was coming back for them, she had to be.

He couldn't tell if he was being followed. It was fine, he was fast, and they might be able to bar the door and escape through the window. After all, if it was good enough for Mother...

(They had said one of them would drown, and Elros knew it would be him. It had to be. He'd dreamed of drowning all his life, of a great wave overtaking him.

But that meant Elrond would burn, and he wasn't _ supposed _ to burn, he was supposed to be safe from it no matter what form it took. Fire  _ loved _ Elrond, and even when it was the evil kind it couldn't hurt him.)

He ran into the room and closed the door. It didn't lock from the inside, so they must have forgotten to lock it at bedtime or something.

He pushed a chair in front of it, though it probably wouldn't do much.

"Elrond, wake up!" he said as loudly as he dared. "They're going to kill us, get up, we need to run!"

Elrond sat up immediately. "What? No, they said they wouldn't hurt us!"

"They lied. I heard them talking, they've even planned out how. Please, we have to get out!"

The two of them moved other things in front of the door to slow down their captors and made for the window. There were loud knocks on the door as they fumbled with the latch.

"Please let us in," said one of them, still banging on the door. The handle began to turn.

Elrond opened the window latch, but the window itself stuck. He pushed harder.

The door opened, chairs easily pushed out of the way, and  _ they _ came in.

Elros and Elrond pushed the window open.

"Don't jump!" cried one of the murderers.

_ Why do they care? _ Elros thought.  _ We're going to die anyway, probably, even if we do manage to make it out of the fortress. The only difference is they don't get to do it themselves. _

"Please," the one who had spoken added in a softer voice. "I think you misunderstood."

"It was only a dream," said the other, the one with red hair, "that we recounted to each other. We have no intention of--"

"You wouldn't have dreamed it if it wasn't going to happen!" cried Elrond.

The kinslayers froze.

The singing one, his voice back to being as pleasant as anything, said, "I often have dreams that never come to pass at all. I did not know that you do not, but I promise that the dream I had meant nothing. It only frightened me."

"What could  _ you _ ever be scared of?" said Elros scornfully.

"A lot of things," said the red-haired one. "But none are fit for children's ears to hear of. Right now, I fear that you will fall."

Elros's eyes widened. This was just a distraction. They had to get out.

_ Bird, _ he thought, leaning backward.  _ Turn into a bird and fly away and find Mother-- _

The kinslayers shouted something, but he didn't know what. He and Elrond toppled back, hand in hand, and--

And they  _ flew. _

Sort of. They didn't really know how to use their wings, and being a bird was strange and unfamiliar.

Before they managed to get anywhere, they were plucked out of the air and pulled back indoors. The window was latched again.

"Please turn back," said the red-haired one, who cradled Elros gently in his hand. "We are not going to hurt you, please believe that."

"I promise," said the singing one. "Please change back into yourselves, and we can talk. Ow!" Apparently Elrond had pecked him.

As much as he didn't want to believe them, Elros found himself inclined to trust this for now. Birds were even tinier and easier to hurt than children, but they did not get their wings ripped off or anything. They were only held carefully and safe.

_ Do you think we should? _ he asked Elrond.

_ Not really, but what choice do we have? _

They changed back, thinking about having arms again instead of wings, hair instead of feathers. Within moments they were just as they had been before becoming birds, but still held close to their kidnappers, who clutched them and wept out of -- it really  _ was _ fear. Elros could tell. They had been afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos, and suggest ideas for future chapters!


	7. Neither Love Nor Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this just a rehash of the exact same angst i'm writing for jailbird? yes but i haven't published it there yet so you get this

It looked like the twins were getting tired. Elrond had yawned three times in the past few minutes, and Elros didn't appear to be registering much of what was going on, though the party was still going.

"Come on," he said, "let's get you boys to bed. It's late."

"Okay," said Elrond sleepily, tugging Elros behind him as he followed Maglor out the door of the great hall. Maedhros noticed and went with them.

Soon enough, the boys were tucked into bed, and Maglor sang his sons -- his  _ sons! _ \-- to sleep, and Maedhros gave them each a goodnight kiss.

(It had become official that very afternoon, the adoption ceremony giving way to an extended celebration. It might just have been the best day of Maglor's life, even given the circumstances. He loved them so much he felt as if his heart might burst.)

He certainly wasn't going to cry tears of joy in front of them, though; that was hardly conducive to a good night's sleep. He did cry in front of Maedhros, later, who joined in with him, overcome with love for their sons.

When Maglor slept that night, it was dreamless and peaceful and the most rest he'd had in years.

* * *

The next day was not so transcendently happy, reality having settled back in, but it was still something more than just good. He still could not help but smile every time he remembered that he was a father now, which he did constantly, for his thoughts rarely strayed far from Elros and Elrond these days.

If he was lucky (and he never was, really, but his sons always were), he would spend the rest of his immortal life making them happy and keeping them safe. He looked forward to it.

But that night, after reading the children a story singing them to sleep, he dreamed.

* * *

It was nighttime. Elrond had migrated over to Elros's bed, and the two of them were clasping hands. They spoke quietly, but Maglor did not have to strain to hear them.

"Are we safe?" said Elros.

Elrond nodded. "I think so. I hope so."

A pause.

"I wish we could be certain. We have done everything they told us," said Elros. “We even acted like it was something we wanted. I think we will be safe for now.”

Maglor stopped breathing.

“I mean,” Elros continued, falsely cheerful, “we are their sons now. They will not hurt us. At least, not until they decide we should be something else.”

Elrond gave his brother a look. “Parents hurting their children is far from unheard of. If anything, they can hurt us with authority.” He wiped at his eyes, trying not to cry. “And we can never escape now, not after yesterday, so we just have to hope they won’t.”

“It was our only choice,” said Elros. “They would have killed us if we had said no.”

“Well, maybe that would have been better!” Elrond realized how loud he had spoken and quieted down. “This is  _ forever. _ We can’t leave, even if somehow someone came for us we would never be free. Everyone will call us traitors for this, and we can never tell the truth, because they will  _ always _ be there and we will  _ always _ have to pretend.”

“Not if we turn out to be mortal, I suppose.”

“I almost hope we are. It’s the only way out of an eternity with them, and even then we’ll die as their sons.”

Elros looked away. “I know. But I think it is better to be alive, even if this is forever.  _ They _ may yet die, if we are lucky, though we have never been before.”

"I can't say I'm looking forward to what is probably eternity in glorified captivity, but I suppose you're right. As long as we're alive, there is hope," said Elrond.

"Unless..."

Elrond shifted to look at his twin. "What do you mean, 'unless?' Aren't you supposed to be the optimistic one in this conversation?"

"I just... how long until this isn't good enough? They moved so quickly to outright adoption after we claimed to love them, it barely satisfied them. How long until they make us swear?"

They both fell silent.

Maglor could hardly contain his horror. This was a dream, it had to be only a dream; the children saw the future but he never had, this could not be real. But it looked like them, and it sounded like them, and this was not the first time Maglor had entirely misread a situation.

(How did they not know that he would never hurt them? Had he not told them enough that he loved them unconditionally?)

But they had been the first to say "I love you," and he had always been careful not to overstep. Had he really been so obvious that he wanted them to love him, so much that they took it to be an order?

And did they really think he would force them to -- he could not even think it. If he could go back and undo the Oath, he would do it in an instant. No one should ever swear it; least of all its victims.

Elrond and Elros hugged each other and cried silent tears, and Maglor slowly woke up.

He cried, too.

How could he ever convince them that they were safe? Anything he said or did would, if the dream was true, be interpreted incorrectly, but if it was false, he would greatly distress his sons by even offering to undo the adoption.

The best he could do, it seemed, was be as good a father as he was able, and do his best to show them that they were free to leave if they wished.

(Or simply examine the fëa bond of adoption, but he failed to think of that for another six hours.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just updated Cilantro Incident, and i'm updating jailbird next :)


	8. Revenge at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, bad mental state, hallucination. The torture isn't graphic but it is happening
> 
> Anyway one of my wonderful discord friends suggested that mae hallucinate his many victims taking out their anger on him while he's dead so i wrote this :)
> 
> Also nienna cameo

Maedhros could not remember when the Halls of Mandos had become like Angband all over again. It must have happened at some point, the change from cool and dark and empty to harshly lit and burning and no longer alone, but he could not pinpoint the moment.

Anyhow, it did not matter, because it was a good change. Not a  _ pleasant _ one -- he had not before known that an unhoused soul could feel as much pain as a body, if not more -- but good. Eternal torment was the correct state of being for someone like him, so this was only right.

He had lost count of the number of times his victims had carved their names into him, but he knew they were running out of room. He had hurt so many people. Once they had all had a turn, they would presumably start over again, and go on and on until all were reembodied, and his sentence would then be the domain of someone else. Probably Námo.

Or perhaps Morgoth again, if they chose to throw him through the Doors of Night. He was not so foolish as to think his suffering would ever be allowed to  _ end; _ it would be an insult to his victims to merely make him stop existing.

Or perhaps he, too, would be reembodied, and they could hunt him down and kill him over and over, for he had killed many and only died once.

(His family had come as well, and his people, everyone he had failed and gotten killed.)

But as far as he could tell, they were coming to torture him in order, from those he had hurt the least to those whose lives he had thoroughly ruined.

And he had thought through the lists of everyone who had visited so far -- when he was clearheaded enough to think of anything but the pain -- and he knew who would be there soon.

Maedhros screamed and wept. It was difficult to even think of those things as actions anymore, when he never stopped doing either.

(It had been said that elves never tire of things they love, that every time they experience something is like the first. This meant that they could not grow accustomed to pain. Were he a Man, his tormentors would be obliged to take breaks, that he might not become used to his suffering.)

Time passed in a haze.

And then, all of a sudden, the pain stopped. Well, some of it did. It no longer hurt actively, at least; no one was currently harming him.

A wave of relief crashed over him at this respite before he pushed it back down. He should feel guilty for enjoying the moment of lessened suffering, for he was not deserving of any cessation in torment.

He looked, his incorporeal eyes healed from their recent damage, to the door of his cell, and if a beating heart had still been in his possession, it would have stopped.

He must have run out of victims, these must be the last in the cycle, there could not be anyone else that he had destroyed so thoroughly who would come for their revenge next.

It was Elros and Elrond.

Once, he had thought they had loved him as a father, wrapped up in a delusion of his own making that they dared not break. He had only come to his senses after being burned by the Silmaril, and had immediately chosen to die, depriving them of their rightful vengeance.

That, at least, could in some small way be rectified now. The pain began again.

Maedhros smiled through it. This was good. They could be happy if they had revenge, even if they had not been able to do this when he was alive, and his continued existence in Arda was useful. There  _ were _ good things about being an elf; had he been mortal he would have had to leave Eä, and then they would not have been able to have this.

He wasn't happy, exactly. He could not, and should not, be happy, or comforted, or pleased, but there was an amount of vicarious  _ something _ in the midst of his torture that at least gave it a purpose.

He might have spoken, had he the ability to speak, but his tongue was gone and he could barely think, let alone string words together. And what would he have said, anyhow? Apologies meant nothing.

How had they died and come to be here? Had he killed them? He probably had, at that, but he could not recall doing it, and he felt sure that he would remember if it had happened.

On the other hand, killing someone he loved simply because he loved them would hardly be out of character for him.

It was a pity that Elrond and Elros could never have  _ true _ revenge on him, as he had hurt them so much that even this endless torment could never compare, and a great deal of the things he had done did not work on unbodied souls, but it was something.

(Sometimes everything hurt so much that he wished for it all to stop, or at least to have a brief respite. But that was selfish, and he could never be given mercy when he had never shown it.)

Time passed, though he could not say how much, and eventually Elrond and Elros left, presumably to let the next person in the cycle have their turn. He cried further when they had gone, and no one had yet come to take their place. If he wasn't even of use as a target of vengeance anymore, why did he still exist? He certainly had not suffered enough yet, and never would, so  _ why-- _

It was less bright now, and he did not feel himself burning. He hurt less.

This was bad.

He gradually became aware of sobbing that was not his own, and when he tried to look for the source, found that he was no longer restrained and immobile.

It was Lady Nienna, weeping for those he had hurt.

As if she had heard his thought, and she probably had, she said, "No, child. I do weep for them, but for you, too, and for what you have suffered."

"I have hardly suffered at all, and none of it was undeserved."

She looked at him, and the full force of her compassion hit him like a tidal wave, her boundless love and pity breaking him down and remaking him.

"Oh, little one," she said, "did you not know that your cell here has been empty the whole time?"


	9. Trophies Redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna mark this complete for now but if i have more ideas i'll update lol
> 
> WARNINGS PLEASE READ!!  
> -this is basically the same as Trophies so the same warnings apply  
> \- brainwashing  
> \- messed up worldviews  
> \- the basic premise being "e&e live in a treasure vault" and the implications of that  
> \- light dehumanization  
> -i definitely think this constitutes child abuse
> 
> please do not read if this will upset you!!

It took a moment for Gil-Galad to get his bearings in the dream, which seemed to be a story already in progress.

He was standing in what was theoretically a great hall of a fortress, but it looked and felt like a throne room. At the head of it, sitting in suspiciously thronelike chairs, were the two remaining Fëanorions.

Not in control of his words in the dream, he heard himself demand the immediate return of Elwing's sons. Maedhros, of course, refused. Gil-Galad said something else, something he could not understand, and suddenly all the Fëanorians in the room drew their swords and attacked.

The dream largely skipped the ensuing fight, but to the surprise of everyone involved, he and his soldiers emerged victorious, and the rest of the survivors of this Fourth Kinslaying surrendered.

The logistics were dealt with, presumably, and the dream moved ahead to him and his people searching for Elrond and Elros.

A great pair of guarded doors stood before him. He knew that he had to get in.

One of the guards said, "This is the vault, I don't think--"

"I would enter, if you please. Here, I found the keys." He held the key ring out, knowing that he had taken them from Maglor's body.

The guards allowed him entry, and the door opened only to reveal a second door and a second pair of guards, who had not known of the battle. After an awkward explanation, they, too, let him through.

The second set of doors opened, and Gil-Galad looked upon the vault beyond.

It was full of riches of every imaginable kind, from jewels to mithril to incredible works of art, and all the wealth glittered under the light of the glowing stone lamps above and along the walls.

But there was sound, for some reason. Was he not the only one here?

Just then, there came into view two youths, dressed in rich red clothing and much jewelry, rushing to him.

Gil-Galad’s heart leapt with joy. Had he found the twins at last? They did not seem obviously harmed, but why were they in--

They stopped a few feet away and sank to their knees, and then did not move.

"Are you Elrond and Elros?" he asked, knowing not what else to say.

"Yes," said one of them. "Thank you for taking the time to visit us."

"We are honored," said the other. "I apologize for our lack of preparedness; we had not been expecting anyone to see us till dinner."

"It is not a problem," said Gil-Galad, a sick feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach.

They  _ lived _ in this vault, and no prisoners would be allowed near such treasure, not unless they were considered a part of it. The Sons of Fëanor had failed to take the Silmaril, and had instead claimed the thing of next greatest value: the children of their enemy.

The children had clearly been trained into this behavior, though Gil-Galad tried not to think about just how. Upon their necks lay necklaces that looked like collars, around their wrists bracelets like shackles. He did not like what this implied.

"Do not worry," he said. "You are safe now. I have gotten rid of your jailers, and they can keep you no longer."

Instead of relief, he saw on their faces (though their eyes were lowered and their heads bowed) a moment of pure terror, quickly smoothed away back into placidity.

"Thank you," said one of the twins. "I am afraid, though, that we cannot remove these bracelets or necklaces, at least not ourselves."

"And we have no clothes to wear that do not bear the star sigil," said the other.

"I cannot do anything yet about your clothes, but there may be someone who can remove the jewelry."

"The seneschal," said one of the children, answering the unasked question. "He is the one who takes care of us."

Gil-Galad nodded. "I will speak to him about it. Everything will be alright soon, I promise."

He went off to talk to the seneschal, who confirmed that he could indeed remove the jewelry if it was the king's wish.

"After all, I suppose it would not be quite right for them to continue wearing them, not being the treasures of that House any longer," the seneschal said. "I have been one of their caretakers, and I can continue in that role if you wish, and answer any questions you may have."

"That would be helpful. I do intend to take them back to Balar with me eventually, but they will need some familiar people to weather the transition."

The seneschal nodded in understanding.

Gil-Galad continued, "Would you mind telling me more about the children's situation?"

The seneschal shrugged. "They are trophies. They are safely locked away with all the other treasures; few and lucky are those who have set eyes on them, though they make public appearances when commanded, of course. They are very well behaved," he assured, "you shall have no trouble with them."

"Have they been hurt?"

"Of course not! The late lords would never damage their precious treasures. I will not claim they were not... disciplined, shall we say, but only once ever were they hurt at all, and not much even then."

He did realize that that just made him more worried, right?

"I see. I'll let you get to helping Elrond and Elros, then; they should not be wearing those collars any longer," said Gil-Galad, and he set off to go take care of something else.

The dream shifted, and all of a sudden it was early evening and almost time to eat dinner.

"It is six o'clock," said the seneschal, apparently done with his task. "If you do not wish to eat with the children, I must arrange a separate meal for them, and they usually eat now if they are not expected anywhere."

"I would like to dine with them, just the three of us. If it's not too much trouble," said Gil-Galad.

"None at all. Give it half an hour and everything will be ready."

He blinked, and half an hour had passed, and he sat in a small dining room with three full plates on the table. The door opened, and the children walked in. He tried to smile at them in a comforting manner.

Rather than taking their seats, or even looking at them, the twins walked directly to him and knelt on either side of his chair.

Not knowing how to respond, he said, "You can sit in the chairs; I think that will be more comfortable."

"Thank you," said the twin on his left, and both of them stood and sat down. They did not eat.

He gestured for them to go ahead, but they did not move until he began his meal, at which time they ate as well.

Out of their sleeves peeked golden bracelets, the ones he thought had been removed, but no -- they were slightly different. The eight-pointed star was gone, replaced with a hastily engraved star of four points, the kind that appeared on Gil-Galad's coat of arms. And there! The necklaces, too, still collared them, the only difference being the sigil that adorned the jewelry.

They said nothing, only continued eating as if nothing was wrong.

Even their  _ clothes, _ now that he looked. Indigo, his color, and what used to be a star of Fëanor embroidered over to become his own.

Realization dawned, followed shortly by horror.

They, and apparently everyone else, thought they were  _ his _ trophies now, having defeated the Sons of Fëanor.

(He supposed he had accidentally encouraged the idea when he had spoken his intention to take them to Balar, but still.)

Every sign of their previous... well, "ownership" was an ugly word, but accurate enough -- had vanished, replaced with Gil-Galad's sigil and colors to mark them.

Clearly, this would take some delicate handling of which he was not sure he was capable, but he could start by talking to them in the hopes that they would open up.

"Are you enjoying the food?" he asked.

Both of them (he really needed to ask which was which) nodded, and the one on his right said, "Yes. Thank you for allowing us to eat with you."

He meant to ask their names, truly, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him, and the next thing out of his mouth was "What do you usually do, when you aren't invited to sit at the table?"

They looked at him as if he had just asked if water was wet. "We sit on the ground, of course," said the twin to his left. "That is our place."

He nodded, pretending to understand, though he wanted to cry for all they had suffered.

"Pardon me, but would you mind saying which of you is which? I forgot to ask upon our last meeting, and I would address you by name if I could."

"I am Elrond," said the one on the left, "and he is Elros."

"Thank you."

They all ate in silence for a time, for the children never spoke unless spoken to.

"Is there anything you will need in the coming days?" he asked, knowing they would not answer honestly. "I would like to bring you back to Balar with me, where you will be safer, but I confess I know not what you will need for travel and for settling in."

"We do not have appropriate attire. It would, I think, disgrace you to have us be seen in this makeshift," said Elros.

So they  _ were _ capable of asking for things, but only to supposedly benefit others. He could work with that.

"There will be clothes without the star for you when we get to Balar, but I did not think to bring any. Until then, you can simply wear your old clothes."

The twins nodded, some unidentifiable emotion in their eyes.

"And you need not wear those necklaces and bracelets all the time, they seem uncomfortable," he said, hoping that they would listen. It was probably wrong to use the power over them that they thought he had, but if it worked, it worked.

As expected, they gave one another a dubious glance. Elrond said, "If that is your wish. We shall no longer wear them at all times."

Silence fell once more.

Gil-Galad did not notice it when the children had finished their dinner, for instead of giving any indication, they sat quietly with respectfully downturned eyes. It had been going on for several minutes before he managed to notice.

"You can go, if you are done," he said.

They both stood and gave a deep bow.

"Thank you, your majesty," said Elrond.

They left.

Gil-Galad decided, after he was done, to follow and see what they did when unsupervised.

To his lack of surprise, they went directly back to the vault and were locked in, and he lost sight of them. However, since he was dreaming, he was able to see what they did anyhow.

Not much, as it turned out. They left the jewelry on (probably because they could not take it off), and sat in a pair of chairs, doing nothing at all. It was disconcerting.

As he watched, the seneschal and several other residents of the fortress entered, holding a great deal of fabric.

"We have dyed this all an appropriate color," said the seneschal, "and brought thread. We'll help you embroider it."

Elros looked ready to cry. "Thank you. You didn't have to, you already helped so much today."

"Oh, hush," said one of the women who had come in. "It's still our duty to keep you safe, from him and anyone else, and I wasn't about to leave you in your old clothes and jewelry."

Another woman said, "Who knows what he might have done? He doesn't strike me as the type to be particularly understanding, and at least if you were wearing his colors he might not do anything... drastic."

"I know," said Elrond. "Thank you. I would prefer to avoid being publicly shown my place; once was enough."

"And if he is not pleased with us, he may take away someone else as well. I do not want anyone else made a trinket of the High King," said Elros firmly. "He has already refused to give us appropriate clothes, for all that he let us eat, and I do not think he will take good care of us."

The seneschal gave the children a sorrowful smile. "At least I shall be coming with you, and you will hopefully be allowed to speak to the others in his vault. You will not be alone."

The dream blurred as hours passed in moments, and the adults left the vault as the children hung up their newly embroidered clothes.

Afterwards, they removed their jewelry (except the offending bracelets and necklaces) and brushed each other's hair, unspeaking. Afterwards, they settled in a pair of chairs in a corner to read.

When Elrond finally said something, it was so quiet that Gil-Galad nearly missed it.

"I'm scared."

Elros put his book down. "Me too. We must have done something wrong today, though I don't know what."

"We did everything we're supposed to, and everything he said! What else is there?"

"Maybe he has different rules and expectations," said Elros. "But I can't see what he would want that we haven't done. We might have to just ask."

"And if that displeases him more, what do we do?" said Elrond. "He's the king, what does he care if we get damaged? He has other treasures; we're not  _ that _ important."

"Beg for forgiveness, I suppose, but you're right. Before, we were too valuable to risk permanent damage to, and now we aren't."

In a blink, it was the next day, and Gil-Galad had a physical form in the dream again.

The children came to breakfast without the hated necklaces and bracelets, though they wore other jewelry, and sat at the table when he gestured for them to.

Partway through the meal, Elros put his fork down and took a deep breath. He said, "Please pardon me for speaking out of turn, but I have a question."

"I do not mind if you speak. Please, do ask," said Gil-Galad.

"Are you displeased with us? Have we done something wrong? We have done as we were taught, but if you prefer us to be differently, we would like to know."

Gil-Galad blinked. "I am not displeased with you in the slightest. What made you think so?"

"You do not let us take our places beside you, and you asked us to remove your symbols," said Elrond. "And when -- when  _ they _ were happy with us, they would hug us, or play with our hair or something."

"They said physical affection is important for health, and we could have it if we earned it," said Elros, "but you have not touched us at all."

Oh, well, at least they cared somewhat about the children's  _ health, _ if not their dignity. "I did not know that," Gil-Galad said carefully. "I did not think you would want to be touched, but I can give you a hug if it would make you feel better."

The twins immediately jumped out of their chairs and rushed to hug Gil-Galad from either side, crying into his robes. He put an arm over each of them and held them until their tears subsided enough for them to speak.

"Are we doing it right?" said Elros. "Are you happy with us?"

"I promise that you have done nothing wrong. I am very proud of how well you are handling this transition," said Gil-Galad, unwilling to lie and thus encourage their subservience but equally unwilling to deny them comfort in whatever form they required. "And you can always come to me if you need anything, or if something is wrong. I will take care of you."

"Thank you," said Elrond.

They all finished their breakfast in peace.

Before Elrond and Elros left, Gil-Galad hastened to mention, "You need not remain in the vault always. You may walk around the fortress or play in the courtyard if you wish."

For the first time, he saw them look genuinely happy, excited smiles spreading across their faces. They thanked him profusely before leaving.

Time passed. The children smiled more often, and did not wear the collar necklaces or the shackle bracelets. Sometimes they even asked for things, hesitant but growing more sure of themselves, as the fortress was slowly packed up to move southwest to Balar.

And then, by chance, Gil-Galad ran into them in the halls of Amon Ereb as they were going to the courtyard.

They wore the awful jewelry he had never thought to see again.

His shock must have shown on his face, because the twins' eyes widened in fear, and they hurriedly took off the necklaces as gears began to turn in Gil-Galad's mind.

Elros blurted out, "We're sorry! We didn't know you would be here. I know you don't like seeing us wear them."

"How often have you been wearing those?" he asked, with a sinking feeling that he already knew the answer.

"Whenever you're not around," said Elrond.

Just as he suspected.

And yet -- he had thought, before, that they would not  _ want _ to wear such symbols of captivity. He had to tread carefully if that was not the case.

"I do not think it is necessary for you to wear them at all," he said slowly. "I want you to be comfortable."

"We are perfectly comfortable, thank you," said Elrond, still sounding afraid.

Gil-Galad sighed. "I mean, you need not wear clothes and jewelry so... marked, so covered in sigils that are not those of your family."

That was the wrong thing to say. The children dropped to their knees (which they usually did less often now) and tears came to their eyes.

"Do you not want us?" asked Elros. He looked horrified by the very concept.

“No, I--” he cut himself off and tried again. “I would very much like you to come with me when I leave, but as my wards, not my treasures.”

The complete and heartbreaking confusion on their faces was the last thing he saw before he awoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this idea lowkey spawned a whole AU in a discord server i'm in and the AU isn't like, actually consistent with this fic at all but it's SO good, the basic idea is maedhros got trophied and his long complicated road of learning how to be a person again

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos if you liked it :)
> 
> In light of recent events: I do not consent to my own original ideas that appear in my fics being used without permission or without credit. If you are able to pick up ideas from my fic then you are certainly able to ask me for permission, and if you are going to publish, credit is REQUIRED.
> 
> This includes names such as elenyafinwë, aþelairë, and almatáru, as well as a number of other details and ideas that appear in my works.
> 
> If you are going to use my ideas for fic that excludes LGBTQ+ characters, for reasons religious or other, I do not give you permission to use them, even with credit.


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